Mad Love
by deth-sephi
Summary: Post-TDK. Rating may change as the story progresses
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

"Doctor? Um... Dr. Quinzel?"

"Hm?"

"We're here."

The driver stopped and escorted Dr. Harleen Quinzel to the front of Arkham Asylum. She smiled and thanked him before walking through the doors.

Crane had been long gone, still locked up in his own asylum. In a special, new, wing for Gotham's collection of strange and wondrous criminals.

The receptionist gazed up at Dr. Quinzel, her eyes heavy. She smiled a little and turned to her computer. "Third floor, all the way down the left hand corridor. Room... 323. Patient number... 401234," she sighed.

"That many?"

"Numbers are generated at random," the receptionist pressed a button by a speaker. "Can I get an escort for Dr. Quinzel to room 323? Have a seat, doctor," she waved a hand absentmindedly to the row of chairs across the hall.

A rent-a-cop jogged down the hall a few minutes later. "Dr. Quinzel?" he asked.

Harleen rose and followed him to the elevator.

"My apologies, we drew straws," he muttered, sticking a key into the slot by the 3rd floor button.

"Are you that afraid of him?" Harleen wondered.

"He's a madman, doctor. We're frightened of him."

"And Crane?"

"He's a psychopath. Don't bother with him. Really, you shouldn't bother with any of these freaks."

"Well, that's my job," Harleen said sharply.

The rent-a-cop led her down the long and twisted left hand corridor. Harleen's eyes wandered the wall, examining- almost studying- it. He stopped for a second, took a deep breath and continued.

"Three... Twenty three," he said glumly.

Harleen took notice of the door. Heavy, reinforced steel with thick strips of iron along the sides. It was welded _and_ bolted together. The rent-a-cop unlocked it slowly and allowed Harleen to enter.

"I... Take it you are... _Doctor_ Quinzel?" the room's occupant drawled.

"Yes I am," she turned to the rent-a-cop, "We're fine. I'll call if I need anything."

"Are you sure?" the rent-a-cop blinked.

"Positive."

"Ok... There's an intercom there on the wall. Just give us a buzz when you're done."

"Will do."

The rent-a-cop forced a smile and left. Harleen closed the door behind her.

"Getting the _cops_ to leave us alone, do you really think that is wise, _doctor?_" the Joker asked.

"You're in a straight-jacket. You can't possibly harm me," Harleen said.

"Hm? Oh yes, I am, aren't I? Well, shall we begin, _doctor_?"

The weeks went on and Harleen began to develop an attraction to the Joker. She treasured their times together. She could remember every detail of his "room" and the rest of Arkham she had gone through to get there.

Harleen soon became obsessed with him. Her actions started becoming rash and unexpected. With her help, the Joker escaped Arkham asylum.

"Good work, _Doctor_," the Joker sniggered, peering over his shoulder and the blasted remains of his 'room'.

Harleen smiled, her unkempt hair covered her face. "Anytime, Mr. J," she smirked.

The Joker gave her a grin and relaxed in his seat. "Now we need a place to go. First, your apartment. That has to go."

Harleen nodded and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The Joker let out a maniacal laugh. By the end of the night, Harleen Quinzel was dead and her apartment building in ruins. The Clown Prince of Crime and his harlequin partner faded away from the limelight, for the moment.

**

"Harley, Harley, Harley... What ever would I do without you?" the Joker laughed. She smiled at him and spun their car around to face the police.

"Exit your vehicle and place your hands on top of your head," they demanded.

"Well, Mr. J?" Harley asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Run 'em," the Joker smirked.

They laughed. She stomped on the accelerator and the car reeled forward. Its occupants bailed before it collided with police cars. The Joker gazed on with eager eyes as the cars went up in flame. He got to his feet and brushed off his jacket.

"Alright Harley, let's go home," he decided.

Silence...

"**Harley!**" he bellowed, whipping his head around wildly.

"Looking for someone, Joker?" a familiar voice snapped.

The Joker squinted across the street. He straightened his jacket and sauntered to the voice. "Harvey!" he smiled maliciously. "Nice to see you're out too. How long's it been?"

Two-Face smirked, stepping from the shadows. In one hand, his coin, in the other, Harley. The Joker was still smiling, his eyes snapped from Harley to Two-Face and back to Harley, smile never fading.

"I've got your little girlfriend now, Joker," Two-Face said.

"I thought we were past all this. I said it was nothing personal."

"Neither is this. I'm just introducing _a little anarchy into the system_," Two-Face sneered. The coin flipped, spinning through the air. Two-Face snatched it out of the air and smiled. "Let's see how many people panic when the Harlequin of Hate loses his Harley Quinn," he laughed, holding the coin up for the Joker to see.

"Mr. J, don't let him do this! Please!" Harley pleaded.

The Joker laughed. Two-Face pulled out his revolver, placing it to her head. His coin hit the ground. He pulled the trigger. The Joker's back was to him, he never say the thing. He whistled happily and strolled down the street.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N **when Amelia is in the scene, what is italicized is her thoughts at the time. at first i was going to to this from her point of view then changed my mind. so here we are.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_Dead..._

Some said she was forced to break the Joker out, and that she died when her apartment building exploded. Others believed that she had become his harlequin mate, who was also dead now. Either way, Dr. Harleen Quinzel was dead.

It was strange to be thinking about a woman Amelia had never met, nor cared to, when she woke up. Mike was released early for decent behavior. He killed her. Amelia's girl, B, Boo... That's not what they locked him up for. They got him on drug charges. Not murder. She gazed in the mirror, _insomnia_, and ran a hand through her hair. It was messy and twisted. She licked my lips and shuffled out of the bathroom. Her eyes caught the picture frame. Jeff, also dead. Mike didn't kill him. No, Batman. _Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, Jeff..._

Amelia would be meeting Mike downtown Gotham. For dinner, he thought it was anyways. He took Boo away from her. Incessant advances, giving her things that could kill her. When she heard he was stationed on one of the ferries the Joker had rigged, she was ecstatic. No. Nothing happened. The people of Gotham were good, no one blew anyone up. Batman stopped the Joker. Batman "killed" people. Jeff and Amelia knew better. He left for work. Late night, he explained. No more of that, _sleepless_, the mob got a hold of him. Kidnapped, gone, dead. Batman was there, close, about to save him. But he didn't. He failed, he was dead.

Now the Joker was free, his harlequin dead. The Batman fell in distraught, no longer patrolling "his" city. Amelia picked at her jeans, _cigarette burns_, and grabbed a clean shirt.

**

"What's new?" Mike asked, fumbling in his pockets.

Amelia pulled the cigarette from behind her ear and handed it to him. "Nothing much."

"Did that psycho really break from Arkham?" Mike struck his only match, singeing his fingers slightly.

"That was a while ago."

"Yeah... I remember now. No worries. They're reinstating me to the Guard."

"Really? They're putting this entire drug shit behind?" Amelia's voice was emotionless.

"You got a problem with that?" Mike snapped. "It's cold out here. Why are we here anyways?"

"Waiting for the restaurant to be clear."

"Up on a rooftop? Damn, it's out..."

"Yeah? Lemme go get a lighter."

Amelia swung open the stair doors. There it was a black bag, right where she left it. Mike hadn't noticed-he was too high.

It happened so fast. The black fabric whirled around her as she stepped back on to the roof. The hood deterred her vision, but she didn't need to see it anyways. She connected all the pieces, the parts, of her staff. Long, sleek metallic and black.

_Grim... Grim... __**GRIM!**_

All the force, all the pressure, slammed against Mike's head. He stumbled backwards.

"What the fu-"

Another blow, with her foot, an ax-kick.

All the force,

Momentum,

He was on his knees now. Hoisting him up was a hard task. Lifting with her knees, Mike's semi-conscious body pressed against the side of the building.

"The Grim fucking Reaper," he spat.

"No," she growled, tipping his body dangerously. "I'm not."

"We're getting too old for games, Amelia," he laughed. "Too old for childish names dead people called us." The hood caught the wind, flying back.

"Glad you agree," she smiled, eyes filled with hate and malice.

She tipped his body back, it toppled downwards

**Down**

**Down**

**Splat **against the pavement. She smiled to herself. _Dinner is cancelled_, she thought happily.

**

"**HARLEY! HARLEY GET DOWN HERE!**" The Joker demanded.

"Boss, she's dead," a brave henchman pointed out.

The Joker paused for a moment. The laughed. "That's right isn't it? She's dead. Good ol' Harvey got the one up on me. Heeheehee... Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent..." he chuckled.

His henchmen fled; afraid their boss might try and kill them again. The Joker gazed out the window, still laughing.

"Gone," he mouthed the word. It felt strange and foreign to him. "Harley Quinn is gone," he croaked.

**

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, cautiously opening Bruce's bedroom door.

"They found Harleen Quinzel's body. A gunshot to the head. He killed his own partner," Bruce said.

"He might've, but we have more pressing matters on our hands."

"Dinner parties and charity balls don't matter anymore, Alfred. I have to stop this man."

"Not that, I just thought you'd be interested in knowing one of your restaurants is the setting of a murder."

"Murder?" Bruce glanced at Alfred.

"Or suicide, but it's not likely. The body was all bruised up they said."

"It could've been the Joker," Bruce lept from his seat scrambled out of the room.

He'd go to the crime scene as Bruce Wayne, concerned billionaire. Concerned for his restaurant's welfare, of course. It was still daylight anyhow. He grabbed the keys to his new Lamborghini and took off. Bruce took a quick glance in the rear view mirror. He looked tired, worn out. His hair was tousled and shirt wasn't tucked in. Bruce rubbed his eyes and kept driving. The in-car-phone rang.

"Yeah Alfred?" Bruce answered.

"I suppose you'll be wanting the name of the restaurant then?" Alfred asked.

"That'd be helpful, yes."

Alfred chuckled and told Bruce the restaurant's name. Bruce thanked him and hung up. Commissioner Gordon was at the scene.

"Mr. Wayne," he said, reaching out to shake Bruce's hand.

"Nice to see you again Commissioner," Bruce smiled, accepting. "This won't effect business, do you think?"

"One of your establishments?"

"I wasn't just going through a calming drive through Gotham."

"Looks like you could use one."

Bruce merely nodded, focused on the dead body. "What happened?"

"He jumped," an officer said, rolling his eyes.

"We don't know that yet. I want a crew on the roof dusting for prints. Get the coroner and take this body to the morgue. Anything we can get from it," Gordon barked out orders.

"What do you think happened?" Bruce asked Gordon.

"I think someone beat him with a cane or a staff and pushed his body off the building."

Bruce shuddered, pretending to be disgusted by the scene, "I guess I'll go check on everyone."

"Why don't you go home, Mr. Wayne? Get some coffee, take it easy. We've got things covered here," Gordon suggested, pushing the billionaire towards his Lamborghini.

"Yeah... Good idea. I'll do that... You don't think... Commissioner... That the Joker did this?"

"If he did, there'd be nothing left."

"I heard... His partner was shot. Maybe he's gone soft?"

"Just between you and me, Mr. Wayne, I think the Joker shot her himself," Gordon said.


	3. Chapter 2

I know it's short, less than 1000 words. I know I'm skipping around from person to person, but it'll all make sense eventually. Maybe...

**Chapter 2**

Amelia fled the rooftop, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she did it. Or maybe it would. At least there was no Batman to deal with. Her head pounded, feet slammed against the sidewalk and her chest heaved. Running was hard with the cumbersome cloak on. She stumbled through alleys.

**Thud.**

"Hello?" Amelia asked, hands gripping her staff.

"Ah... The grim reaper... Where's your... Where's your scythe?"

The owner of the voice stepped out into the pale streetlight. Amelia could barely see its eyes, but the rest of its face was white. Save for the mouth, a ruby red smile painted on nearly from ear to ear.

"Joker," she breathed.

His smile grew larger. "Grim," he laughed.

"Grimace. Not Grim," Amelia corrected.

"Grim's child?"

"The only known offspring," Amelia smiled.

"Are you... Are you looking for the Batman?"

She blinked, appearing deep in thought. _Batman, __**the **__Batman._ "Yes. I believe I am."

"Well your stunt at that restaurant isn't enough to get his attention. You need more pizzazz. Aggressive excitement! Nitroglycerin, dynamite, gasoline! Things that go..." the Joker cross the alley, moving closer to Amelia. He pulled her up, placing his mouth by her ear. "Boom," he whispered.

**

_Another sleepless night_, Bruce thought bitterly. Two days had passed since Bruce had seen Gordon, since he had seen that corpse. He was no closer to discovering who or what had done it. GCPD was investigating the possibility of it being a murder, which it probably was.

"It's not the Joker," Bruce said aloud. "Who else could it be? Harvey... No, Harvey's dead..." he sat up, rubbing his temples.

The dead man was there for a date. His date couldn't be found. No one saw her go up or down. Nobody saw him go on the roof either. Rumor had it that the woman had been missing for a long time.

"Crane? No, Crane's locked up. Who, who, who?"

Bruce racked his brains some more.

"Batman," he muttered hoarsely. "It's only one murder... Just some ex-con. If it escalades, then I'll take action. This is Gotham after all..." he fell back on his bed. Bruce continued to think until his vision grew hazy, eyelids grew heavy and the billionaire playboy fell asleep.

**

"Do you know how I got these scars?" the Joker asked as he escorted Amelia to his van.

"Do I want to?" Amelia inquired.

"Oh I'm sure you do. You see..." the Joker began his tale.

Amelia sank into the passenger seat, eyes closed, as the Joker explained his story. She pulled her hood down, exhausted.

"I need... I need an idea. Something to get the Batman off his feet. You, you're perfect. Like a ghost. A ghost in flowing black. But first, we need his true identity," the Joker mused.

"Why not just harass Commissioner Gordon? Batman might take action if we try for someone important to Gotham," Amelia suggested.

"... Gotham... Who owns most of the businesses in Gotham?"

"Um... No idea. What about Wayne Enterprises?"

"We blow it up!" the Joker giggled, swerving the van wildly.

"Well, we can... I was thinking more along the lines of kidnapping Bruce Wayne."

"Then the Batman will have to save him. He's already lost Harvey Dent, how many more idols of Gotham will he sacrifice?"

"We'll just have to find out," Amelia smiled.

**

"Want me to make another pot?" a detective asked.

Gordon looked up from his desk. "Yeah... Good idea. Any leads yet?"

"None yet, Commissioner," she replied.

Gordon just nodded and gazed out the window. Smog covered the Gotham skyline, Wayne Enterprises was barely visible. Gordon took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

"Here you are Commissioner," the detective said, setting a mug down.

Jim Gordon thanked her and kept staring out the window. She nodded her head and left his office. Gordon sighed and kept racking his brains.

"Bruce Wayne..." he muttered.

**

"Bruce Wayne is really only a figurehead. Technically it's his company, considering he owns most of the shares," Amelia began.

"What? Shares? It's not a Wayne legacy anymore?" the Joker demanded.

"It went public a few years ago or something like that. Anyways, he doesn't run it. Some other guy does."

"But it's _his_ company, right? And he's still Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham," the Joker shrugged.

"We could get two birds with one stone. Kidnap Wayne and kill the president on his board of directors," Amelia offered.

"You've got good ideas, keep them to yourself. Just Wayne and it'll be... _Big_," the Joker waved his hands to emphasize on the word.

Amelia sighed and nodded, "all right Joker, big it is."


End file.
